Mo Grá (My Love)
by Cissa The Bookworm
Summary: All old Irish families have some sort of creature blood in them. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes just happen to be belong to two of those families. As if being a super soldier wasn't enough.


The Avengers had learned to live with everyone's quirks. Tony didn't like to be handed things. Bruce would never drink coffee and you can't talk to him before at least one cup of green tea in the morning. Clint likes to crawl through the vents. Natasha would wear her pajamas to breakfast and if you said anything about her hair, you would be avenged before the day was up. Thor loved Pop-Tarts and didn't quite get pop culture yet, though he was getting better. Sam was pretty normal, but he had his daily yoga and god forbid if you interrupted it.

Steve. Well, Steve had quite a few quirks, but like with everyone else, the Avengers learned to get used to it. Steve wouldn't touch raw salt. If it was cooked in something, he'd eat it. But if it was just put on top of food or on the counter, even in the container, he wouldn't touch it. They learned to just pass the salt around Steve and never put pure salt on any of his food. On Saint Patrick's Day, Steve barricaded himself against the world and all shamrocks and four leaf clovers in the tower mysteriously went missing. The next year the Avengers banned those plants from the tower and no one forced Steve out of his rooms.

By far the strangest quirk of Steve's was his about anything made out of iron. He was very picky with what he would use, and if it didn't suit him, he would find some alternative object to use. If he couldn't find an alternative object or there wasn't time to do so, he would make one of his teammates use the offending object.

No one questioned Steve's strange quirks, they all did things a bit differently, so why would Steve be any different?

Once Bucky regained his memories, the Avengers found that Bucky had his own set of quirks, but that they all related to Steve. Bucky would make sure that Steve never had to deal with raw salt, never was around a four leaf clover or shamrock. And most importantly, he dealt with Steve's finickiness with iron objects. If Steve wouldn't touch it, but they were short on time, Bucky was right there to take care of the matter. And Bucky was always the first one to find an alternative product for Steve to replace the iron one with.

One day Steve's quirks all came to a head with the week's villain: some quack calling himself Iron Fist. How original. As his name suggested, he had an iron fist that he wielded with surprising accuracy. He also had a flock of iron bird-like fists following him around, attacking innocent bystanders and buildings alike. When the Avengers got on site, Steve paled and started to hurriedly back away. "I can't be here." Steve muttered.

"Stevie, you go back to the tower, we can get this." Bucky orders, concern lacing his voice.

Steve nods and turns to flee back the way they arrived, but before he could get away, one of Iron Fist's flock attacked Steve. Steve screeched in pain as the bird-fist threw a white substance at him: salt. Steve backed away from the bird-fist in a panic.

Thankfully the battle site was cleared out of bystanders and it was only the Avengers, Iron Fist, and his flock of fists. Steve looked around in panic as a group of fists surrounded him, cutting him off from the rest of the Avengers. Iron Fist flew over and hovered above his flock, laughing at Steve.

"Oh dear me, I was expected Captain America to put up more of a fight. Instead I find that he's just a terrified little fae from Ireland. How the fates have smiled upon me." Iron Fist grinned wickedly, showing his pointed teeth.

Steve glowered, though his eyes betrayed how terrified he actually was. "What do you want, witch?"

"What do I want?" Iron Fist grinned, "I get my very own pet fae to play with and hopefully a conquered Manhattan. Though I'd really settle for my very own fae, I've always wanted one."

"I don't think so." Bucky growled, "You'll have to get through me first." Bucky pushed his way through the flock of fists and stood protectively by Steve. "The only way you're getting my fae is through my dead body, witch."

"Is that so, siren? Why don't you go back to seducing poor sailors."

Bucky screeched and attacked the fists, taking them down in record time. Next he screamed at Iron Fist, knocking him unconscious. Bucky then turned to Steve, who still looked at the iron objects in fear. "Hey, hey look at me. Steve. Look at me."

Steve turned his terrified gaze to Bucky, who cradled his face lovingly, "He's knocked out, he won't get you."

" _Cad?_ "

Bucky sighed before repeating what he just said, " _Tá sé amach, ní bheidh sé a gheobhaidh tú_."

" _He was going to make me his pet._ " Steve suddenly started to cry, " _I'm a fae and he's a witch. He could have done it. Bucky, he could have done it._ "

" _But he didn't. I've got you_." Bucky pulled Steve into a hug and petted his hair, "I've got you, _mo grá_."

" _Is breá liom tú_." Steve spoke against Bucky's shirt, _I love you_.

" _And I you._ " Bucky soothed Steve as SHIELD agents arrived on the scene and cleared up the mess. Once Steve was slightly less hysteric, Bucky swept him up in his arms and carried him back to the transport and into the tower once they arrived there.

Bucky settled the now sleeping super soldier on the couch and went to the kitchen to make some food for his sleeping fae. The Avengers watched silently as Bucky made shepherd's pie and shoved it into the oven along with a traditonal Irish Cream Bundt Cake.

"What was that out there?" Tony not able to stand waiting any longer, finally broke down and asked the question on everyone's mind.

Bucky looked sharply at the group, "You breathe a word of this to anyone and I will end you, do you understand?" At everyone's affirmative nods, Bucky continued, "Steve and I are of Irish descent and many Irish families have some creature blood in them."

Tony scoffed, "You trying to tell me that you and Steve are some mythical creature?"

"Shut up, Stark, and let Barnes talk." Natasha snapped.

"Thanks Nat." Bucky smiled at the assassin, "Old Irish families who have lived in the homeland for centuries have the blood in them. Most don't have the creature blood in them anymore due to dilution of their blood but there are some creatures left in Ireland.

"My family is made of sirens. Last of the Barnes bloodline I reckon. And Steve, his family wasn't so lucky. They descend from faes or as you probably know them better: fairies. At least sirens have no weakness besides people not listening to us sing. Our blood is thin enough that we don't mind people not listenin'. Steve, though, his blood is thick with fae and he has to adhere to the Fae Code of Nature.

"He has to stay away from raw salt and he abhors shamrocks. His blood's not so thick he can't stand any iron object, but he has to be careful what he handles and where he goes. Most of the time he can handle the fear of iron, but when you're met with so much raw iron, it's hard to handle such an ingrained fear." Bucky finished his story as he chopped up a salad. "'S why he has the quirks he does."

Tony gaps at Bucky, "I still can't see how you expect me to believe that you and Steve have some ancient Irish _creature_ blood in you."

"You saw the way Steve was about those fists." Natasha softly comments.

"And he never picks up the salt shaker." Sam adds.

Clint shakes his head, "And you surely remember the shamrock incident."

"All the evidence adds up, man." Sam finishes.

Bucky sighs, "It makes life even more difficult for Steve. It's why I mother hen him so much." Bucky smiles ruefully as he continues on to make garlic mashed potatoes and Irish Creamed Kale. "Stevie always enjoys some home cooked Irish food. Makes him feel like he's in the homecountry."

"I thought he was born in America?" Sam said in confusion.

"Nah, Stevie and I we were born in Ireland. After Stevie's pa passed away from damages gained in the war, Steve's ma moved her and Steve here to the states. 'Bout when he was ten, I reckon. My ma and pa brought me and Becca here when I was eleven. We moved in a coupla doors down from Mrs. Rogers 'n Stevie. Became best of pals being the only Irish-born boys on the block." Bucky grinned as he continued to cook, "Ma taught me how to make some traditional meals. Stevie can't cook for shit."

"I know how to make some things." Steve's voice startled the group, "Just not as well as you."

Bucky grinned at Steve, "How're you feeling?"

"Terrible. There was so much _iron_." Steve shuddered.

Bucky left the food to sit for a few minutes as he moved and embraced Steve, rubbing his back a few times. Steve settled his head on Bucky's shoulder and practically melted into him. "I made all your favorites, that should help."

"Thank you."

"Anytime. You know that, Stevie." Bucky placed a delicate kiss to Steve's forehead.

Steve hummed, "You're too good to me."

" _Mo ghrá Thú_." Bucky murmured, _I love you._

" _And I you._ "

"And I suppose that you two nerds are speaking Irish now?" Tony snarks.

Steve lightly glares at Tony while Bucky scoffs and doesn't dignify his comment with an answer. "C'mon, Stevie, go and lay down again. I know that iron can really wear you out."

"Buck, I'm fine, really."

"No you're not, _mo grá_ , now go lay down before I make you."

Steve fondly rolls his eyes at Bucky as he follows the instructions, "Come with me? I know the food just needs to cook for a while."

Bucky smiles, "You've got me whipped. You've got the Winter Soldier whipped, I hope you're proud of yourself."

Steve laughs, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"No," Bucky hums, "me either."


End file.
